Gold Pens and Cross Words
by Anonymous Nerd Girl
Summary: This is an AU set in a curse-less Storybrooke. There is no Dark One, but Mr. Gold is still trying to push Belle away. This story is now rated T for mature themes and implied sexuality.
1. Gold Pens and Cross Words

_**Hey Everybody, for some reason my mind went down a dark alley tonight. This fic could stand on its own as a one shot or I could continue with it. I cried like a baby writing it, much to my everlasting shame. Please review and let me know if I should ride this to the bitter end. Thankfully I own nothing- if this were really the show everyone would hate me.**_

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Of course he would write the damn letter with his gold tipped fountain pen. His penmanship was flawless and his posture was perfect- if a little tense. "Here you are Miss French, I'll see that two months' salary is deposited in your account and this letter certainly won't hurt your chances of finding another job."

"Why are you doing this?"

"It's simple dearie, I don't need an assistant anymore."

"You are a coward, Mr. Gold. You could have had happiness." With more dignity than she felt, Belle French took the letter from his outstretched hand. "But you've made your choice, and you are going to regret it." She tore it neatly in half and exited the back room. A few moments later Gold flinched as the bells tinkled and the front door clicked shut.

He contemplated all of his available options from laying his head on the desk to slitting his wrists with his letter opener. In the end he limped into the showroom, locked the door, and flipped the sign to Closed. There would be plenty of time for self-pity later. In the meantime there were more letters to write.

0

Belle, like the rest of Storybrooke, was quietly astounded when the pawnshop didn't open the next day. Mr. Gold was hardly a popular man and the shop was definitely no hot spot, but changes never seemed to go unnoticed in a small town. Belle pointedly ignored the many speculations she heard whispered by patrons of her father's flower shop and refused to answer any of Ruby's less than subtle inquiries. It wasn't until she passed Dr. Whale all but falling off of his barstool as she was leaving Granny's that she allowed herself to acknowledge Mr. Gold's existence. And then her world fell of its axis.

0

Mr. Gold shivered against the autumn wind and wondered why he had never spent an October in a reasonable climate. He could have afforded the Cayman islands or the Mediterranean, instead he stayed in Maine. Cursing he noticed his door was unlocked and his hand groped for the pistol he kept hidden in the foyer.

"I've moved it already."

Her voice nearly gave him heart failure. He turned to glare at her. "What are you doing here?"

"I moved the one from your night stand too. And you might as well know that I've locked all your weapons displays in the basement."

"Who told you?"

"I ran into Dr. Whale today, he wasn't handling things very well."

"I guess the rest of the town has heard then."

"Not yet, but it's only a matter of time."

"I should sue." he muttered to himself. "Well, you've cleared out my cache of weapons. I can't possibly do myself an injury. You can leave now."

"I love you."

"You feel sorry for me."

"I've been in love with you for months."

"Get. Out."

"And now I know why you pushed me away."

"Shut up."

"Why won't you believe me?"

"SHUT THE HELL UP." He grabbed her shoulders roughly, ready to push her out the door. But one of her hands reached out and brushed his face. He pulled her close instead. "I'm sorry, Belle."

"Shhh. It doesn't matter. We're together now. Everything's going to be fine."

"How can you say that?"

"Because it's true. I've brought my things, I'm not going anywhere."

"You're a madwoman. You know that, right?"

"I know what I want, if that's what you mean. Now sit down and rest. I think I hear the tea kettle."

"I don't want to sit down. I don't want any bloody tea."

"Well I do. Stand if you like."

"It was bad enough when I was just the town pariah. Who also happened to be twice your age and cripple. But now... I'm not going to let you waste your life."

"No one decides my fate but me. Are you sure you don't want a cup?"

"Belle, I'm dying!"

"Then we'll have to make the most of the time we have left. Go on and sit, you know your leg's killing you."

"Is that supposed to be a joke?"

"No it's a fact. You've been on your knee too long and I'm not going to walk on eggshells at this point."

Gold sighed, "You didn't bring any scones, did you?"

Belle smiled, "Blueberry."

0

They took tea in the parlor; Belle would never be able to think of it as a living room. They were both too pragmatic for small talk and unwilling to address Gold's illness again, so they sipped in silence. Afterward Belle took the tea tray back to the kitchen. She returned with a book and a crossword. She offered both to Gold as if she didn't know what he would choose.

"You're sure you know what you're in for dearie?"

"We'll take it one day at a time."

"What did you tell your father?"

"The truth. I told him we are in love and I that I was moving in with you."

"I bet that went over well."

"That's one way to put it."

"Why stay?"

"Would you leave me?" Belle looked up at him from Jane Eyre.

Gold shook his head. "What's a four letter word for fracture?"

Belle thought for a moment, "Chip."


	2. Sessions

**What a premier! Out of respect for my international friends I will leave my comments at that. I have decided to expand this fic into a series of non-linear one shots. I dedicate this one to Cu Chulainn 1945 as a nod to her hilarious Sessions fic and because she took an interest in this story.**

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Belle hated waiting rooms, and she had seen her fair share of them in the last three months. Not that the antechamber outside of Archie Hopper's office counted as a waiting room. The place was downright homey in comparison to the stark white and bleached torture chambers in the hospitals. Belle tried to concentrate on Archie's worn striped wallpaper and his slightly crooked display of cricket pictures. The room was different, the smells were different, but the feelings were same.

She had a devil of a time convincing Gold to try counseling. Talking hadn't worked, shouting hadn't worked, and she was unwilling to use tears at any cost. But she wasn't above blackmail. It was like he always said; when two people want something the other has, a deal can always be struck.

Belle wondered what was going on in there. She very much doubted that Gold would open up, but she hoped Archie would be able to offer him something. Comfort, advice, something. Belle tried her best to be brave for Gold, but she was only one woman.

0

After an hour of waiting Archie opened his door and ushered Belle in. Walking into the office she only had eyes for Gold.

"I'm fine." he told her with a somber expression and dry eyes.

Archie, however, had clearly been crying.

"Is something wrong?"

"No, not at all. Mr. Gold was just sharing some of his personal history with me. He really opened up."

"You did? That's huge. I'm so proud of you."

"Well you did ask me to make an effort, dearie."

"Did you know- Wait. Mr. Gold may I discuss what you told me with Miss French?"

Gold flashed a stoic smile, "Go ahead. Belle and I have no secrets."

"Belle, do you not find it remarkable that Frank was born in this country but was deported back to Glasgow with his family."

"Frank?"

"Yes. It was so touching to hear him open up about his alcoholic father and the hardships of his upbringing."

Belle stifled a giggle. "His father was a postman and his name is definitely not Frank. He's been telling you the plot of Angela's Ashes."

"What?"

She pulled a paperback from her purse and handed it to Archie. "You don't want to miss the ending." She turned to glare at Gold. "I think _Frank_ should go sit outside for a moment."

"I'm already gone, dearie." his cane tapped across the floor at an almost alarming pace.

Archie shook his head and cleaned his glasses with a tissue from the box on his desk. "I'm surprised that I'm surprised."

"What else did he tell you?"

"That the two of you met at a ballroom dancing class."

"You believed him?"

Archie nodded then asked, "Does he dream?"

"I guess so. Why?"

"He told me that since his diagnosis he's been having recurring dreams in which he's a dragon sorcerer."

"He and Henry have been reading Eragon every afternoon at the shop."

Archie laughed at that one. "He can be pretty convincing."

"I don't know why I thought this would work."

"You love him and you want to help him through this."

"I don't know if I can. I don't know if I'm enough."

"You're making a bigger difference than you think."

"And what makes you say that Dr. Hopper?"

"He came."

0

"Durza? Really?"

"That was close to the truth. It's more of a daydream of mine."

"Why did you break our deal?"

"I've never broken a deal in my life. You asked me to come and I did."

"You can twist your words and fool people, but not me. Did you even tell him one true thing?"

"Yes I did."

"Oh?"

"I told him that I'm worried about you."

There was no way Belle could respond to that so she took his hand.

"What about your end of the bargain? Will you marry me?"


	3. Pillow Talk

**_I've upped the rating to T. This chapter contains triggers, characters discuss suicide and_ _there is an implied sexual relationship._**

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She could feel him staring; even in her sleep, she could feel him staring. "Are you okay?" The words were spoken before she was entirely sure she was awake.

"Fine, dearie."

"Then why aren't you sleeping?" Belle had kept herself awake long after he crashed. After they had... Belle blushed. "Are you sure there's nothing you want to get off your chest?"

"You really do think I'm a coward, don't you?" Gold said. "That's why you locked the weapons away." His voice was full of some emotion she had never heard before.

"Anthony." He looked away. Belle had adamantly refused to move her things from the guest room unless he told her his first name, and it was clear that it affected him. "I did it because I was afraid."

"Do you care to elaborate on that?"

"You might think you're mysterious with your veiled threats and your sneers, but I know you. You were planning on tying up all your loose ends, alienating everyone that had ever given you a friendly nod, and then ... I'm guessing you didn't want to stick around for the word to spread."

"I'm not afraid of dying."

"I didn't say you were. But you hate the idea of anyone seeing you as weak. The second I heard, I had this terrible image of you hiding in a bottle of Johnny Walker and using one of you guns - or that evil-looking dagger." Belle could feel tears forming and did her best to suppress them. "You don't know what kind of rumors people were spreading because you didn't open the shop today- and they have no idea that you're sick."

"I prefer Aberfeldy to Johnny Walker," Gold said.

"You're not even going to deny it, are you?" Belle drew in a shaky breath. "My mother did it."

Gold bolted upright, "What?"

Belle sat up too, drawing her knees up to her chin. "She, ah- she had stage four ovarian. She fought until they told her she wasn't responding. And one night she took a bottle of painkillers. I was eleven."

"Belle, I'm sorry. I-"

"It's okay. On an intellectual level I know she wanted control and that she was in pain. But all I knew then was that she was my mother ... and she was gone. And I would have done anything for more time with her." She was crying and she felt guilty for it, but this conversation was inevitable. "And today I was so scared that I- that we would never- Anthony, please promise me you won't..." Belle broke off sobbing.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart." Gold murmured gathering her in his arms. "I'm so sorry."

"No, I shouldn't be breaking down like this. I'm here to take care of you-"

"Belle, if you follow through with this I daresay you will be spending a lot of time taking care of me. Tonight it's my turn."

"I love you so much." Her breathing was returning to normal and the tears were slowing down.

"I'll never be able to understand what you see in me. Even if I had centuries left." He traced patterns along her spine with his left hand and the fingers of his right were interlocked with hers. "I won't leave you. As long as I have a choice, I won't leave you."

Belle sniffed and gave him a weak smile.

"I'm sorry I called you a coward," she said. "I should have said that earlier. I was so angry yesterday and I didn't understand."

"There's nothing to apologize for, dearie. I was terrified. I couldn't believe someone like you could want me. I'm still not sure I won't wake up in an empty bed to find that I've been dreaming."

"You're too hard on yourself. I don't understand why you think you're such a monster."

He smirked. "It's public opinion, love. Especially on rent day."

"You've never been a monster to me."

"You're an odd girl, Miss French."

She giggled. "I get that a lot."

"Will you make me a promise, Belle?"

"It depends. What do you want?"

Gold shifted uneasily against her; staring  
uncertainly into her eyes, he dropped her hand so he could cup her chin. The room was dark, but light enough to see her face. "If you ever want out, Belle... leave. Don't worry about me. Don't feel guilty-"

"Never!" Belle cut in.

"I don't want this to break you -"

"_Never._ As long as I have a choice in the matter, I'm staying." Belle thought for a moment. "I'll make you a deal, Anthony. I promise to leave if I ever feel the need ... so long as you promise to never push me away again- especially if you think it's for my own good."

"No deal. Or did I imagine the word 'never' escaping your lips ten seconds ago?" He sounded both irritated and amused. "When I deal both ends are expected to keep up their side of the bargain."

"Do you have anything else in mind?"

"Take care of yourself. Can you try to do that? I won't push you away and you will take care of yourself."

"I think I can manage that."

"Good. Now let's lay back down. The shop won't open itself tomorrow."

"You're going to re-open?"

"We are going to re-open. If the yokels want to gawk and ply me with sympathy, I would rather it be there than here. It might be good for business."

"I won't let anyone gawk at you. Besides, after I pumped Whale for all the information he could give me, I-" Belle blushed. "I kind of told him that if he told anyone else, you would triple his rent, sue him for breaching your confidentiality, and more or less eat his liver."

"You do know me. Or maybe I'm just a bad influence."

"Definitely a bad influence. I actually enjoyed threatening him. I'm glad he told me, but I wanted to punch him."

"It's called shooting the messenger, dearie."

"I suppose so. But you deserve to let people know in your own time."

"Even so, people will be coming round to gawk tomorrow."

"And why is that?"

"Beauty just moved in with the Beast." His voice was teasing as he pulled her down onto the pillows. "The villagers will notice that one."

"Then let's give them something to stare at." Belle smiled and snuggled against him. "Charge admission."

Gold chuckled. "I have corrupted you."

"Mmmm. Sleep, Anthony. I want my beast bright-eyed and bushy-tailed in the morning."

"I love you, Belle."


	4. Books and Breaks

**_Thanks to everyone that has viewed, reviewed, followed, or favorited. A special thanks goes out to Cu Chulainn 1945- best beta ever. In response to a review by guest: this work is a collection of one shots. They aren't in chronological order. This particular story takes place a little over a year before the events in the first chapter._**

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Mr. Gold was actually very fond of children; he had been a father himself, once upon a time. Unfortunately, the children of Storybrooke were, by and large, emphatically not fond of Mr. Gold. The little ones tended to be afraid of him, while the older ones made fun of his limp behind his back. That is, until they were old enough to have genuine finance-related reasons to fear the pawnbroker.

The only exception to this rule was young Henry Mills. The boy first started frequenting the pawnshop less than a week after Gold hired Isabelle French. The town had noted with varying degrees of amusement the way the mayor's boy trailed after Miss French like a puppy.

Henry had become a fixture at The Game of Thorns, where Belle patiently taught him the finer arts of flower arranging and told him stories about her childhood in Australia. Her father never failed to tease Belle's young suitor, asking him if he thought he could support a wife on his allowance and if Belle should be jealous of Miss Blanchard. Henry took the good-natured ribbing manfully and was never daunted in his pursuit- until Belle started working for Mr. Gold.

It took Henry three days to summon the courage to visit the pawnshop. At the age of ten Henry was young enough to believe every urban legend surrounding the menacing Scotsman. He was old enough to have witnessed teenagers attempting to prank him, and Henry was wise enough to have noticed how the teenagers of yesteryear always seemed to end up to their eyeballs in debt. Storybrooke considered Mr. Gold to be a dangerous man, and Henry had no wish to cross him. Picking a handful of daisies and an apple from his mom's tree, Henry repeated his new mantra. "A faint heart never won a fair maiden."

His courage nearly failed him when Mr. Gold greeted him from the counter. "Hello, Henry. What can I do for you this fine afternoon?"

"Um. Hello, Mr. Gold. Is Belle in?" The boy looked over Gold's shoulder in hopes that Belle would come out from behind the curtain. "Oh, and I brought you an apple."

Mr. Gold smirked at the bribe but answered the boy with as much dignity as the situation required. "Henry, I can't help but notice that you've been paying Miss French a lot of attention over the last few months. And I can respect that. But I can hardly allow a ten-year-old to loiter around my shop every afternoon." He watched as the boy's face fell. "I can, however suggest that you try stopping by during Miss French's break. She usually takes a half hour off between four-thirty and five o'clock."

"Okay. Thanks, Mr. Gold."

"My pleasure, Henry. Now, I'm going to ask you to run along because Miss French and I are going to be waterproofing some gear with lanolin. This shop is not going to be a very pleasant place, I'm afraid."

"That's fine, Mr. Gold. I'll see you tomorrow." The boy laid the half-crushed daisies on the counter and headed to the door. "Will you give those to Belle?"

"That I will, Henry." Gold replied, shooting the boy his customary half smile. "And I'm sure she'll find a vase to put them in."

Belle emerged from behind the curtain a few seconds after the boy's retreat. Mr. Gold turned to face her. "You handled that very well," Belle said.

"You expected me to toss him out on his ear?"

Belle smiled uncertainly. "I wasn't sure what to expect."

"Well, I was young once," Gold shrugged. "And I had a young boy once, too."

"You had a son?" Belle's tone was cautious, she was fascinated but didn't want to pry.

"Yes, but I lost him. As I did his mother."

Gold's face was difficult to read. A large part of Belle wanted to question her employer, she opted to distract him instead. "I guess we should be getting started. Unless you made up the lanolin story to scare off Henry."

"No such luck, dearie," Gold chuckled. "On the bright side it's an environmentally safe alternative to chemicals."

"I'll try to remember that."

"Do. But it won't help."

0

Belle was surprised at how quickly she adapted to working for Mr. Gold. The first two days had certainly been awkward, Belle resented the high-handedness with which she was transplanted from one job to the other. She blamed both Gold and her father- but as he was so keen to point out, Mr. Gold held all the power. Mr. Gold was also much easier to stay mad at than her dear Papa.

By the third day Belle was tired of sulking, especially after Mr. Gold showed such unexpected tact when dealing with Henry. For a brief moment she saw a glimpse of what might have been the man behind the menace. Of course, he had to ruin it by introducing her to the stench of sheep by-product.

By the end of her third week Belle came to realize she was in love. It was the shop. She grew up with flowers and enjoyed their beauty, but a bouquet of fuchsias never gave her the thrill of uncovering buried treasure. Belle found herself obsessed with Gold's collection of antiques and oddities. The man himself was aloof and distant, but never intentionally unkind.

Belle also enjoyed her daily visits with Henry. He was such a darling boy. She knew that most of the children his age considered him to be an oddball and she could relate. It wasn't Henry's fault that he fit in better with adults, and Belle always did her best to take him seriously. She'd hated condescending grown-ups at that age. She was relieved to see Mr. Gold took a similar stance.

He had been the one to suggest that Henry bring books to the shop "to spark Belle's interest." The boy took to the idea and was blissfully manipulated into turning his "romance" into something that was at least semi-educational- if the A on his most recent book report was an indicator.

0

They were reading _Treasure Island_ when Gold interrupted. "Miss French, forgive my bluntness- but you're making that pirate sound as if he were getting ready to crochet an afghan, not incite a mutiny."

Henry laughed. They were tucked away in the back room. Belle and Henry on a pair of dingy wing-back chairs, and Mr. Gold some distance away at his desk. Belle noticed that he usually had some paperwork or repairs to do when Henry was around, but chose never to call him on it. He was such a lonely man.

"You think you can do better, Mr. Gold?"

The pawnbroker shrugged, "I was just suggesting you try getting in character, dearie."

Belle wasn't satisfied. "No, Mr. Gold, I think you should take over. Long John Silver suits you."

"And what may I ask do you mean by that? Are you referring to my less than savory character? Or perhaps you're thinking of my leg?" Gold's tone was light, but Belle sensed she should tread with caution.

Except she didn't. "Take your pick, Mr. Gold. Either way I won't be satisfied until I hear the way you read the story."

The atmosphere in the back room was charged; Henry had picked up his backpack ready to bolt. But to everyone's surprise, Gold's especially, he began to read. The tension in the room melted away leaving in its wake the hypnotic cadence of Mr. Gold's voice. Belle wasn't sure if it was his accent, an innate sense of knowing when to inflect and emphasize, or if her employer secretly possessed some kind of magic. His words conjured the sound of floorboards creaking on the Hispaniola and the blazing heat of the island. Henry and Belle were enthralled.

All too soon, the spell was broken by a chorus of wooden birds chiming the hour. Belle never hated cuckoo clocks until that moment. Mr. Gold stopped reading, clearly enjoying Henry's gaping stares and Belle's speechless state. "I guess the break's over."

0

Henry was hardly the pawnshop's first visitor after Mr. Gold's condition became public knowledge; but he was certainly the only welcome one. Walking in he said a quick hello to Belle and stepped behind the curtain as he had every day for the past year. Gold was setting at his desk tinkering with a retro looking Sheriff Woody bank.

Looking up, Gold swallowed; this was the one confrontation he had been dreading. "Hello, Henry - is there something you wanted?"

Henry nodded and, without breaking eye contact, pulled a book from his bag. "Yeah, it's 4:30. I thought you might like to try _The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe_ today."

Gold nodded slowly. "That sounds great."


	5. Someone Else

Hospitals made Belle nervous - more than nervous, if she was being truthful. Her worst fear was being trapped forever in a hospital- in a joyless, sunless limbo that smelled of poisonous cleansers and suffering. Archie assured her, although she already knew, that the phobia was rooted from her mother's illness and it was a perfectly normal response. Thinking of her mother was bittersweet; it unnerved Belle how her history was repeating itself. She had asked Archie if subconsciously she had intentionally recreated her past by choosing Gold. If some part of her knew about his illness before she properly knew about his illness.

This notion plagued Belle almost as badly as her fear of hospitals. At the time Archie told her she was internalizing- using the idea to justify whatever guilty feelings she harbored about Gold's cancer. To prove his point he suggested Belle make a list of the reasons she fell in love with Mr. Gold. A list that made her laugh and cry whenever she thought about it. She was very careful to let herself cry only when she was at therapy. Outside of Archie's office, Belle was all bravery. Even in the hospitals, even when she was sitting alone in a waiting room, even when Anthony was going through yet another round of chemo.

They were told by one of the foremost oncologists in Boston that with aggressive treatment they might get a year, maybe even eighteen months if Mr. Gold was responsive. Belle hated that man. She hated all the doctors- anyone that could calmly estimate another person's dwindling lifespan had to be evil.

Anthony had been strong too; caustic and ill-tempered, but that was his version of normal. Belle didn't blame him in the slightest. He needed her to be polite and kind to the doctors and nurses- but mentally she could feel herself being twice as cutting and bitter as Gold. She depended on his venom, and he never directed it at her.

Belle didn't want to be alone that day, but she didn't know if she could face Anthony either. She knew she had to tell him, but she didn't want to. He was sick enough, he had enough worries. They had been together six months, married for two, and time was running out. He needed to know, even if it would break his heart.

0

"How are you feeling, Ant?" Belle's voice was steady, but she could hear the guilt in it.

"Better now that you're here." That was his standard reply.

Belle surveyed her husband; the treatments had emaciated him. And he was so pale... He wasn't ready to hear. She would tell him when they went home, after he put some weight back on.

"You might as well spit it out, dearie."

Not for the first time Belle wondered if he had supernatural powers. "It's nothing."

"Your face is too open, love. Tell me what's the matter." His voice was mocking but gentle. "You haven't found someone else, have you?"

Belle gasped and paled. Before Anthony could register her reaction fully she took his hand and guided it to her abdomen. "You could say that..."


	6. Preludes

**Thanks to all the readers and the reviewers. I really appreciate all the feedback! **

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Belle French was one of the few people Gold approved of, not that he had given her any special notice. It's just that she seemed to be everywhere; volunteering at the infernal convent, delivering flowers, chatting with Ruby Lucas at the diner. The girl even ventured into his shop from time to time- mostly to browse, although she bought the occasional vintage book if she had money to splurge.

She was odd, so open and friendly- his opposite in nearly every respect. He was the man everyone hated and she was the girl everyone loved. As far as he could tell she didn't have a spiteful bone in her body. Her never ending supply of goodwill even extended to him. In the decades he'd lived in Storybrooke, she was the only person to smile at him more than once. His standoffish manner and reputation killed the kindly tendencies of others pretty effectively. Not Belle's, in spite of the fact that he never reciprocated her friendliness.

Anyone else in her position would undoubtedly be terribly bitter. Belle had been called away from her junior year of college when her father's business began failing. Tossing aside a hefty scholarship, three years of hard work, and excellent grades, she came home. Gold had heard through the grapevine that she finished her BA online and had hopes of going for an MFA one day, but her education was of little use during her six-year stint managing a penny ante flower shop.

He knew Moe French blamed him for his financial difficulties, although for the life of him, Gold couldn't understand why the man thought second and third loans would cover the first. True, that twisted logic had been his bread and butter for time out of mind, but Mr. Gold held it in contempt. The Game of Thorns would have gone under half a dozen times without Belle. The girl had a knack for last-minute saves.

Towards the end Gold felt as if he was engaged in a chess tournament. He had no real interest in destroying the florist; he just relished seeing what the daughter would do to stop him- with a kindly smile on her face, no less. Yes, he did approve of Belle French; he wouldn't have decided to play hard ball otherwise.

The offer was mad: he would decrease the interest on French's loans if his daughter would agree to work at his shop. He wasn't even sure why he wanted the girl. The list of reasons he rattled off to the flabbergasted twit of a florist sounded legitimate enough. He did need an assistant, Belle would be a much less intimidating presence behind his counter, and he would never find a candidate for the job if he went through the conventional channels. But he knew that wasn't it. French's first instinct was to tell Gold to jump off a cliff, but after an initial bluster he acquiesced quickly enough. Belle, for her part, took the news stoically and Mr. Gold realized why he was so bent on having her. He had finally managed to wipe the smile off her face.

0

Belle wanted his name. His first name. It was a reasonable thing to ask, but he was reluctant. Names had power- they categorized and defined. Less than five people in Storybrooke knew his first name, and that was because his transactions with them required his driver's license. He knew he shouldn't hesitate. She told him she loved him. In spite of his age, infirmity, and even his illness, she loved him.

The poor girl had to be out of her mind. If Gold had any scruples to speak of, he would make her leave. He would try harder to make her see reason. He shouldn't let her destroy herself for him. He loved her.

Gold didn't know when it happened, whether it was the smiles or her unwillingness to back down when he tried to bully her. Of course at the time he told himself he wanted to break her or some sort of rubbish. He had even half-convinced himself that she was just another lovely piece of his collection. Addicts never admitted to having a problem, and that's how he viewed it when he finally admitted his feelings to himself.

It was unfair that happiness should come looking for him so close to the end. He wasn't a good man, he didn't harbor any illusions about that. He didn't deserve Belle, but before the doctors discovered the cancer, he thought he could at least offer her a life. Money was no object; he could have given her the world. Travel and adventure, he knew she dreamed of those things. He couldn't even think about what their future held now. She had to understand that a clean break would be for the best.

He was hovering outside the guest room, unsure what to do. He wanted Belle like he had never wanted anything. She deserved better. His knuckles brushed against the door. The sound was faint, and maybe she hadn't heard. Gold poised himself to retreat as the door opened. Belle was beyond beautiful in her over-sized flannel pajamas.

"You can call me Anthony."


	7. Baby Blankets and Bravery

Belle was struggling to bite back her anger as she made her way to his room. She didn't relish the idea of fighting with her husband, especially after he had been freshly admitted to Storybrooke General- but he needed to be confronted. Sick or not, he needed to be called out on his scheming.

The scene Belle walked in on tugged at her heart. Charlie's white receiving blanket was twisted in his hands as a nurse tried and failed to draw a vial of blood from his left arm. "I'm sorry, Mr. Gold," she said. "Do you think you're dehydrated?"

"You tell me, dearie," he growled through clenched teeth.

"It would probably be easier to put a PICC line in for the I.V. We can worry about the blood test afterward."

"Sounds like a plan," he muttered, flexing his arm. Anthony Gold wasn't afraid of needles per se, but over a year of being treated like a human pincushion was beginning to take its toll. "And would you mind sampling a breath mint before you try again?"

The nurse fled the room in a huff, impatiently pushing past Belle in her haste to find another needle.

"That quip will probably cost you, Ant," said Belle. "She won't bother being gentle next time." Belle was never much shocked by the way her husband dealt with hospital staff, but taunting a phlebotomist seemed especially reckless.

Gold nodded. "They're more efficient when they don't care about hurting you."

Belle chuckled in spite of herself. "If you say so."

"How's Charlie?" Gold's voice softened.

"Sleeping. It's funny how she only does that during the day." Belle allowed herself another giggle. "I don't think Granny minds."

"Mrs. Lucas has been a godsend." Gold cleared his throat. "Did you see Dr. Whale lurking in the corridor? The pill-pusher never told me how long they intend to keep me."

"I didn't see him. How are you feeling?" She leaned over to plant a kiss on his forehead. Gold was a difficult man to love, and it defied logic that he should also prove to be a difficult man to stay mad at.

Anthony groaned in appreciation and pulled her down to kiss her properly. "Better, now that you're here."

Belle wanted to let the issue go and wait to address it, but she knew it was too important to shelf. She drew herself back. "Anthony, what can you tell me about Emma Swan?"  
A pause. Gold's eyes shuttered and closed off.

"Emma," he said. "What a lovely name."

"Do you know who she is?" She wasn't fooled by Gold's attempts at evasion.

Gold exhaled slowly, carefully choosing his words. "She is Henry's birth mother," he said obtusely, using a tone of voice that suggested whatever Belle had to say, it was irrational.

"Did you bring her here?" Belle was trying to be patient, but she knew her husband too well.

"In a manner of speaking. Henry wanted to find her, I brokered his adoption, so I gave him a name."

"WHY? Tell me why would you do this? You know nothing about this woman! Why would you let Henry put himself at such a risk? Please tell me this isn't one last power play between you and Regina." Belle's volume was low, but her tone betrayed the magma beneath the surface.

Gold wanted to deny Belle's accusations, but there was a grain of truth to some of them. His expression was annoyed, defensive. "She has been spreading gossip about us since the first time you stepped in my shop, Belle," he said. "She called you a gold-digger to your face-the same day she found out about my cancer, no less. If Regina gets hurt by this, I am more than fine with it."

"What about Henry? He's the one who will suffer and be confused." Belle willed herself not to shout or say anything regrettable. She reminded herself her husband was in a hospital bed. "Tell me, please. What possessed you to contact that woman?"

"I made no contact with her, dearie. Henry asked and I answered."

Belle scowled at her Anthony, feeling guilty for confronting him at all. She loved him more than life itself, but she knew him too damn well. "I know you wouldn't have told Henry anything if there wasn't something else at play. Please be honest with me."

He hesitated, looking obtuse and unwilling to share. Finally, "I might have done some research before I told Henry about Emma. She had just turned eighteen when he was born, spent her childhood in and out of foster care. She arranged a private adoption so her son wouldn't get lost in the system the way she did." Gold broke off coughing.

Belle poured him a cup of water from the hospital issue carafe. "You're sure the doctor told you bronchitis?" she asked, worry returning from remission. "Not pneumonia?"

"I'm sure, love. They're only keeping me as a precaution. Besides, you don't need me at home getting the baby sick." Gold smiled to reassure her. The last several months had been kind to Anthony; he was nearly back to his normal weight and his hair was growing back nicely- if a bit grayer. "Why don't you let your father keep Charlie for the night?" he suggested. "He's always offering to help."

"What?" Belle was stunned. "No. She needs me."

"Sweetheart, at this rate YOU are going to end up in the hospital. Let Moe watch the baby."

"I'm fine, Ant, and quit trying to distract me. I'm still upset with you."

"We had a deal, Belle. You're supposed to take care of yourself."

Belle had heard that line more times than she cared to think about. "We'll see," she murmured as the nurse re-entered the room.

The nurse's eyes shot daggers at Gold, but it took her brief seconds to insert the PICC line. Belle's lips twitched as Gold's eyes met hers with a smug I-told-you-so look and only the hint of a wince; he would be insufferable later...

0

Belle took Anthony's advice that night. He satisfied her whims when he could, and her Papa was delighted to have little Charlotte Rose to himself. And Belle was grateful, in the long run, that she didn't have to drop the baby off when she was called to the hospital at 3a.m.

0

He was still holding Charlie's blanket when Belle ran into his room. In the midst of the chaos and noise, the only thing she could see was the baby blanket in Anthony's hands. White on white. Pale hands grasping at the only comfort left.

Dr. Whale was astounded by the torrent of profanities Belle rained on him. Empathy wasn't his strong suit, and he was expecting her to thank him for stabilizing Gold. Savage, he thought later, shaking his head. The woman was a savage.

0

The darkness cleared slowly, giving way to light and formless shapes. Then, out of nothing:  
Belle's face was the first thing he saw upon waking. Her eyes were wet and smudged with weariness. She was deathly pale and her usually tidy curls were all but standing on end.

"You look like Frankenstein's bride, dearie." The raspy croak was the most beautiful sound she had ever heard.

Belle tried to laugh, but it came out as a sob. She had been brave, but she would never forget the moments in which her worst fears had been realized. "You flatlined, Anthony," she said thickly. Hysteria wasn't far away. "I watched you die."

Gold tried to smile. "Dr. Whale saw fit to reanimate me I take it?"

Belle nodded. "I don't understand all of what happened. Whale said you had an adverse reaction to some of the medication. Your blood pressure dropped and..."

"Belle, I'm here. I'm fine." Gold's voice was stronger than it had any right to be. "We still have time left, sweetheart."

"If they hadn't... Our last conversation would have been an argument." Belle's voice was shaking and her body was rocking slightly. Anthony had never seen her like this, so fragile. She wasn't broken, but her fear was chipping away at her strength. He could only imagine his own state if their positions were reversed. With that in mind it was suddenly very easy to be the brave one.

"Hey. Hey. Belle, look at me." His muscles were sore, but he forced himself to sit anyway, putting his gentle hands on her forearms. She was trembling. "You were right," Gold said. "I shouldn't have interfered with Henry without talking to you first. You were right."

Belle shook her head. "What kind of woman picks a fight with her husband when he's-"

Gold cut her off. "A saint couldn't be more patient with me than you've been, Belle. I know I'm a difficult man to love."

"Loving you isn't the hard part, Anthony." Belle sighed. "Understanding you, on the other hand..."

"That shouldn't be so hard, dearie," said Gold with a grin. "You know me better than anyone."

"Sometimes I think I do, but other times you're an enigma."

"And you love that. What was it you said that day? Love is a mystery to be uncovered." Gold smirked. "But if you ever doubt my motives, jump to the worst possible conclusion and you'll most likely be right."

"That's not true." Her eyes searched his face intently. Gold stared back at her, pale from his near-death experience but otherwise amused. "Why did you tell Henry about Emma?" Belle asked. The amusement slipped away; Gold parsed his words over before he spoke them.

"Henry's different," he said. "Lonely. How many other children his age spend their afternoons in dusty pawnshops?" Anthony held Belle's gaze, something in his eyes soft and pleading for understanding. "I'd like to think … I'd like to think there will be someone else on Henry's side when I die. Someone like a mother – or just an adult friend. I don't want to leave a void when I go."

"Anthony, I-" Belle was at a loss for words; instead of speaking she did what seemed to be the only thing she had been able to do for Anthony from the beginning. She held his hand.

His thumb grazed over her knuckles. "I wonder how Charlie's doing," he said.

"She's probably giving Dad a run for his money." Belle glanced at her husband. "Ant, I'm never going to argue with you again."

"You shouldn't make promises you don't intend to keep, dearie."

"I mean it. No more fighting." Belle's voice was firm.

Anthony looked genuinely perturbed. "Belle, I love fighting with you," he said. "You are the only person in this town brave enough to openly defy me."

"I don't feel brave right now, Anthony."

"Maybe not right now, sweetheart. But you're still the bravest person I know." Gold kissed her hand. "Dearie, do you have any strong opinions about installing a nanny-cam?"


	8. Memorable Details Part 1

**I want to thank everyone that's been reading and following this fic! I'm shocked with how the numbers shot up after that last installment. Here's a shout out to landscapegirl, TXJ, Grace5321973, Nightowls Nest, and Cu Chulainn 1945- my brilliant beta. Thanks so much for all the love! ANG**

* * *

Town hall would have done nicely. They could have filled out the paperwork, exchanged rings, and had lunch at Granny's afterward. In Belle's opinion, even a civil ceremony would have been superfluous; she made up her mind to love and honor him before they had even kissed. Every day was a testament that she loved him in sickness or health. In all honesty, she considered herself his since their first night together. He gave her his name and she gave him her body; that was ceremony enough for Belle. "Making things legal" felt strange, and she knew tongues would wag that she was only taking Gold "for richer"- they were wagging already. Belle would have been fine getting it over with the day after she accepted.

Anthony was so insistent, though. He wanted some time to put things in order. And as often as they argued, Belle truly had a hard time refusing his requests. After much haggling, they agreed upon a month-long engagement period.

"Just promise me you won't buy me a veil," Belle teased

Gold grinned. "I'll promise nothing, dearie. I don't have a mad wife in my attic. Our marriage will be iron-clad."

It worried Belle that Anthony was so concerned about the legalities of their nuptials. She wondered if he wanted an engagement period for the sole purpose of putting his affairs in order. Mr. Gold's practical nature was infamous in Storybrooke; it was why it was so difficult to argue with him. He had a knack for planning, Belle had to admit; they had a month before the wedding. Three weeks for a honeymoon, and a week at home before they needed to go to Boston and start chemotherapy.

Belle would be lying if she said she had never dreamed about her wedding. For a couple of months she had even dreamed about the wedding of herself and Mr. Gold- before she learned his first name and other secrets. Her father was a florist and she would have had roses- it was better not to think about that. She and her Papa hadn't spoken in months...

The time for pretty fantasies was behind her. The reality was Anthony wanted to marry her, and even if it was because he wanted to make it easier for her to inherit his rather large estate- Well, he was still sharing his life and name with her. He revered contracts above all, and she supposed she should be flattered that he wanted to contractually bind them.

0

Anthony Gold prided himself on his attention to details, and his ability to plan, and his knack for accomplishing his goals. Organizing the ceremony and reception would have been child's play if it wasn't for the human element. Paying people to clean and cater was as easy as a parlor trick. Reaching out to others had been the challenge. A proper wedding needed guests, which were somewhat difficult to procure given his penchant for alienating others. He would have liked to wed Belle in front of the entire town- the world even- but it wasn't to be. He had built up too much ill-will. Still, Belle was well-loved by the community. Her closest friends found they could tolerate his company for Belle's sake.

He asked Hopper to officiate; he supposed it was a flight of fancy but it felt right. Choosing a best man wasn't as difficult as it might have been- Henry being the obvious choice. The details were coming along nicely for the most part, with one noticeable exception: Moe French wanted nothing to do with Gold.

To Moe, Anthony Gold was the greedy loan-shark who bled his bank accounts and stole his daughter. Gold couldn't fault him for that; he didn't even blame him when he outed Gold's illness to the community. What hurt was how thoroughly French was shutting out Belle. Anthony knew he had to shoulder some of that blame himself, but not all of it. Belle needed Moe, she was hurting. Anthony knew that would only get worse as time passed.

The Game of Thorns was cloying to Gold; a riot of fragrance, color, and texture. He hadn't darkened the doorstep in months; he'd stopped collecting rent when Belle moved in. Being a stubborn man, Moe sent monthly cheques that went un-cashed. It made for an awkward dance, but neither Gold or French faltered in their steps. Moe's expression as Gold approached the counter was a familiar combination of fear and disgust. Gold once thrived on such looks.

He steeled himself for the task at hand. "Good afternoon, Mr. French."

"Get the hell out!" Moe growled, pointing toward the door. "I know why you're here and I want no part of it!"

Mr. Gold fought his more violent urges. "Moe, I'm about to do something very out of character," he said. "I'm going to tell you something about myself and I would appreciate it if you would keep your tongue between your teeth and listen."

"There's nothing you can say that will make me feel any sympathy for you, Gold. You might have my girl fooled- but I know what a sick bast-"

Anthony cut him off mid-tirade, "Yes, Mr. French, thanks to you the whole town knows just how sick of a bastard I really am. In every sense. I have a different story to tell." He hesitantly forced himself to make eye contact with the florist, features working to stay mostly blank. "Not many people know this about me, Mr. French," he said, "but I was a father once."

Moe's response was silence; his face held no expression. Gold chose to interpret it as polite interest. At least the florist hadn't asked 'Once?' There wasn't a more sickening question in the English language.

"I had a son named Bae," he said, grimacing at what he had to say. The next words came out forced and strangled, with little more dignity than a whisper. "He died before he got to see fourteen."

Gold could tell a chord had been struck.

"Wha- What happened then?" Moe asked uncomfortably. Gold looked down at his cane, eyes shuttered.

"Meningitis. He was away at school - I was told it happened quickly." Gold didn't pause for polite condolences. "I'm telling you this because I can understand what you're going through. I can. There's no greater pain than losing a child. It eats at you. All you want is to see them, speak with them. It's been nearly twenty years and I still miss my Bae.

"My point, Mr. French, is that you still have Belle. She's not gone anywhere, and she's in pain. You might disagree with her choices, but she doesn't deserve this. Neither do you." Mr. Gold stood, leaning heavily on his cane. "Goodbye, Moe. I hope to see you at the wedding."

Mr. French said nothing as his daughter's fiancé limped out of his shop, but for the first time ever he regarded the man with something almost like gratitude.

To Be Continued...


	9. Memorable Details Part 2

_Unforgettable, that's what you are_

_Unforgettable, though near or far..._

Belle smiled dreamily as she nestled her head beneath her husband's chin. His arms tightened around her as they swayed to the smooth rasp of Nat King Cole. Moonlight and the dim glow of three Tiffany lamps illuminated the pawnshop's showroom-cum-dance floor. Moe had outdone himself; the strategic placement of white roses amongst Gold's bric-a-brac transformed the shop into a pale garden.

They were alone, of course, enjoying what might have been the last leg of their wedding reception - or perhaps it was the first leg of their honeymoon. Belle inhaled deeply, savoring the fragrance of Anthony and roses. She wanted to commit every sound, smell, and sensation to memory. There weren't enough perfect days in the world; Belle knew she would wrap this one around herself often in the months to come. In that moment, in his arms, Belle felt safe and secure. Just then their love was enough to protect them from the world outside the enchanted forest of their embrace.

_Like a song of love that clings to me_

_Just the thought of you does things to me..._

Anthony fidgeted uncomfortably, trying to recall the proper technique for a Windsor knot- the stress of the day shaking habits of a lifetime. He wondered what Belle would think of the dress he'd selected and whether she would really discard the veil. Ruby would be with her, possibly more awed by the careful layering of surprises than Belle. He recruited her early on to act as maid of honor- Belle would have done so herself if she knew the ceremony was to be a proper wedding. Ruby knew the bare bones of Gold's plans, but could scarcely fathom the scale of his achievement.

A knock on the door roused him from his reverie. "Yes?" His nerves made the word sharper than he intended.

"Hi, Mr. Gold." Henry bounded into Gold's study ahead of a slightly green Archie. "Your house is huge."

"Thank you, Henry." Anthony's mouth quirked into a smile. "Are you ready for your duties?"

"All I have to do is hand you the ring. Piece of cake."

"And you, Archie? Do you think you're up to the task at hand?" Gold tried to keep his tone light; this was no day to intimidate people.

"Mr. Gold, I have to ask you a question and I need you to be truthful. If I'm to perform this ceremony, I need your full name. I know it's not Frank. Or Gary. Or Adolf." Archie swallowed hard, remembering their disastrous therapy sessions. "You need to trust me with this if you want me to marry you to Belle."

Gold studied Archie's earnest red face. He answered slowly and deliberately, "My name is Anthony Ulysses Gold. I would appreciate it if you'd leave my middle name out of the proceedings though."

Archie smiled and offered Gold his hand, "I'm pleased to meet you Anthony. I guess I can see why you guard your name so closely. A.U. Gold."

"Yes, I did take a lot of abuse in my high school chemistry class."

"AU?" Henry asked. "Like alternate universe?"

Archie laughed. "AU is the chemical symbol for gold, Henry."

"Oh." Shrugging, Henry changed the subject. "Would you like to see your present?"

"Henry, I have everything and money to buy more. Belle and I aren't expecting gifts." Gold was genuinely taken aback.

"This is special," he said, stepping into the hall. "I made it."

Henry thrust a paper wrapped package into Anthony's hands. "Open it."

Gold shook his head; he was quite unused to presents. "Why don't we save this for Belle?"

Archie rested a hand of Gold's shoulder. "I'm going to see if Granny needs help in the kitchen." He retreated, giving Henry and Gold some privacy.

"You've worked really hard to surprise Belle with all this wedding stuff. You should open the present."

Anthony nodded, undoing the untidy bow. Beneath the wrapping paper was a leather-bound storybook containing what looked to be a retelling of Beauty and the Beast.

"I like to call it Skin Deep. Marco helped me with the binding and I had August check my spelling and stuff. Grace's dad illustrated it for me, he's pretty famous so it might be worth something someday."

Anthony didn't have to feign interest in the book. The story was indeed a fairytale, but it was also clearly a metaphor for his relationship with Belle. The writing was direct and straight-forward, the language was simple befitting a child of Henry's years. What set the story apart was the mature manner in which Henry created his characters. The clearest reflection of one's self can be found in the eyes of a child.

Jefferson Madden's illustrations were pure whimsy, befitting his reputation as Storybrooke's mad artist. The sketches of Belle were both flattering and accurate, his renderings of the "Beast" character were, in a word, unusual. Gold could picture Jefferson's smirk as he transformed him into a green-skinned imp. He wondered briefly if his face truly bore such a marked resemblance to a satyr.

"This is very well done, Henry. Belle and I will treasure it always." He glanced up at the boy, a few questions from the story sticking out in his head. "The cursed dagger," he said. "That's because I'm ill?"

Henry nodded and Gold continued, "Why the chipped teacup?"

"Do you remember what you told me about the lamp post in Narnia? Every story needs a memorable detail."

"They do in deed, Henry." Gold chuckled. "They do indeed. Here, take this to Belle. She'll love it."

"Okay, Mr. Gold. While I'm upstairs would you like me to do a little recon?" Henry sounded hopeful.

"That would be great, but make sure you knock first." Gold hesitated. "And thank you, lad. Your book is one of the best gifts I've ever received."

Henry nodded slowly, trying to make a decision. Although he no longer feared Mr. Gold, it did take some courage for him to give the man a quick fierce hug before leaving to visit the bride.

_Never before has someone been more_

_Unforgettable in every way_

_And forevermore, that's how you'll stay..._

The world made sense the night before the wedding; Belle was content and ready for the next day. There were no excited butterflies in her stomach, true, but she didn't have cold feet either. With Anthony spooned up behind her Belle fell into a tranquil sleep. She woke up in an empty bed to the tune of what could have been bullets. The panic that was beginning to set in was interrupted by a brisk knock on the door. "I hope you're decent, because I'm coming in."

Ruby entered the room with a flourish and a breakfast tray. "Rise and shine, Sleeping Beauty. Your intended asked me to bring you some sustenance and to keep you company while all the last-minute stuff comes together downstairs. In other words, I'm here to guard you."

Belle tried and failed to blink away her worry and confusion. "What was that noise? It sounded like a gun or something. Where's Anthony?"

"Anthony, is it?" Ruby sniggered. "What you are hearing is Marco's nail-gun, Gold hired him to take care of some projects for the wedding."

"We're not having a wedding, Ruby. We're going to Town Hall and..." Belle trailed off, nothing about this day made sense.

Ruby giggled. "I never thought he could pull it off. You really don't have a clue, do you?" She handed the tray off to Belle and sat down at the foot of the bed. "Your Anthony has been running himself ragged for the last month planning a wedding. He told everyone he wanted to surprise you, but there's been several bets placed over whether he could actually do it. You'd better eat that oatmeal before it gets cold."

Belle shook her head, "Ruby, we can't be having a wedding. There's no time for anything- There must be some kind of mistake. Anthony only wants to marry me for legal reasons."

"Oh, Sweetie. He didn't tell you that, did he?" Ruby paused long enough for Belle to shake her head no, before she continued. "Mr. Gold has been running around like crazy trying to get things ready. He promised to let Granny go two months rent-free if she would oversee the catering and I think he made a similar deal with Collette from that French restaurant to bring her in on the team. If it wasn't Mr. Gold I was talking about I would have call all this the most romantic thing I'd ever seen."

"I still don't understand. He knows the superficial things aren't important to me."

Ruby caught her friend's eye and held her gaze. "I think it's important to him, Belle." For once Ruby's voice held no flippancy. "He wants to give you a perfect memory."

Belle nodded and tried to focus on her cooling tea and oatmeal. Ruby smiled. "Hurry up and finish, you might not give a fig about superficial things but our dresses are to die for."

"Our dresses?"

"Yes, they're in one of the guest rooms. You can't get married in pajamas and I couldn't be your maid of honor in my diner uniform."

"He actually asked you to be my maid of honor?" Belle's face lit up.

"He did. And Henry's going to be the best man, if he can sneak away from Regina for the day. I think Dr. Hopper is performing the ceremony," Ruby finished casually.

"Dr. Hopper, is it?" Belle teased; nearly everyone in town had noticed the waitress and the therapist making calves' eyes at each other when they thought no one else was looking. "I can't believe Anthony's gone to all this trouble- it's not like him to reach out to people."

"It's all for you, Belle. He loves you!"

"Yes. And I love him too."

_That's why, Darling, it's incredible_

_That someone so unforgettable..._

She was beginning to feel like a princess trapped in a tower. The morning passed by tortuously slow. Ruby kept her company off-and-on, having to go downstairs occasionally to help with "odds and ends". The sounds of light construction were eventually replaced by faint voices and the noise of people milling about. It touched Belle that Anthony would disrupt the sanctity of his home on her behalf.

Henry stopped by as Ruby was putting the finishing touches on her make-up. His wedding present would have brought tears to her eyes if Ruby hadn't been menacingly standing over her, wielding an eyeliner pencil like a sword. Mary Margaret also paid a visit and was drafted by Ruby to help pin the veil in place. Belle was somewhat shocked when August came round to take some candid photos for the wedding album. He and Anthony had never been on good terms, but Storybrooke was lacking in professional photographers.

Belle's biggest surprise was waiting beside the stairwell holding a bouquet of red roses and golden gladiolus. "You look beautiful, baby."

"Papa?" Her voice came out a choked sob. Moe's face was creased, close to tears.

"I'm sorry, Belle. I'm sorry for everything. You're your own woman, and it's no longer my place to give you away but I was wondering if you would let me stand beside you anyway." Moe could barely look into his child's eyes so great was his shame.

"Of course, Papa. Thank you for coming." Belle fought back a flood of words and emotions. She knew now that there would be more conversations with her father. She knew he would hold her hand in the hard times that were to come.

Ruby cleared her throat, advancing on Belle and Moe, straightening collars and fussing with curls until the strains of music signaled her to lead the procession downstairs.

Belle clutched her father's arm, wondering if she would ever cease to be amazed by the man she was marrying.

_Thinks that I'm unforgettable too..._

Anthony tried not to panic. There were more people in his home than he usually dealt with in the course of a month- rent day excluded. They were in his home and staring at him, until they weren't. Ruby was the first down the staircase and makeshift aisle; Gold cast a sidelong glance at Archie to gauge his reaction. Ruby was fetching in her burgundy gown and Hopper's eyes were wider than he had ever seen them. It was his turn to gawk in the next second, however.

The sight of her gliding toward him made his mouth go dry; he could only just remember how to breathe. Her progress was accompanied by the sound of Blackbird being played on an acoustic guitar. The beauty of the moment was well worth calling in his favor from Sheriff Graham.

Their eyes locked. Brown and blue, like the earth and the sky. Suddenly the trappings didn't matter to Anthony. He could spend as much money as he wanted and could call in every favor, but nothing could come close to equalling what Belle was giving him. What she had given him already.

_Unforgettable in every way..._

Archie led Belle and Mr. Gold through their vows with all the gravity and sincerity he felt the occasion deserved. Archie was very aware that he had a position of trust as a therapist, and he tried very hard to live up to the responsibility. It wasn't an easy thing to have so much insight into the lives of others. It was a burden to keep secrets and share heart aches, one that he felt he managed well. Still, for a man whose career lay in such insights, he felt very privileged to be watching the couple so closely. It was like staring into the face of love. Belle had always been very active in the community, but Archie never realized how much of herself she held back until their weekly sessions began. Belle's innate kindness was always on display, but her strength was a secret cloaking and cloaked by layers of pain. She also had hidden depths of passion, a shocking amount of which was devoted to Gold.

Six months ago Archie would have never predicted the union he was helping to bind. Standing under their wedding canopy everything somehow made sense. Mr. Gold had allowed so many of his most obvious barriers to be breached to give Belle a wedding. He could only imagine how many had to come down before Gold could let her into his heart in the first place. The man spared no expense on flowers and food, but as beautiful as everything turned out the naked emotion on his face was what would have the greatest impact on the bride. Archie beamed as he told them to kiss, sometimes secrets weren't a burden after all.

_And forevermore that's how you'll stay..._

He knew she didn't believe him when he told her he needed to pick some documents up from the shop. But she agreed to keep him company, not bothering to change out of the ball gown wedding dress. The element of surprise was gone, but that didn't make the moment of walking into the shop less magical. The reception at their home full of warmth and toasting, it wasn't as awkward for Gold as it might have been. But Anthony had been waiting for this, waiting to have her to himself.

"It's all been so beautiful, Anthony." Belle murmured.

"I don't know. I can think of a few improvements." His voice was low and gentle.

Belle didn't respond with words, but shot him a questioning look.

"Dance with me?"

* * *

_**A/N Well, Dearies I hope you enjoyed my version of the Rumbelle wedding. Gold Pens is going to be on hiatus until after the holidays- I'm going to devote my energies to A Christmas Carol in Storybrooke and some other little projects. If you like my writing look me up on tumblr- .com. Please review!**_


	10. New Years and Mouse Ears

**A/N This is a fluffy little New Years gift to everyone. It's a snippet from Belle and Gold's honeymoon. Enjoy and be warned my next chapters will be full of angst and pathos. In the mean time a happy drabble for a Happy New Year.**

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The French doors opened onto the balcony providing Anthony and Belle with a private and unparalleled view of the fireworks and the park below. The sounds of revelry filtered their way up- shouts of "Happy New Year" competing with the strains of Auld Lang Sign and the mighty booming of the fireworks. Their kiss lasted longer than what would have been seemly for a major celebration in the streets of Disney World, honeymoon or not.

0

After the wedding Belle thought herself beyond surprise. Her husband was a magician, it was as simple as that. She never expected to find herself gaping as he told her they would be catching a flight to Orlando. To say Mr. Gold was not the Disney type was a massive understatement, closet king of romantic gestures though he may be.

"Disappointed?" he asked when her silence became awkward.

"No," she said quickly. "I'm just having trouble picturing you in mouse ears."

"Sweetheart, if I had three months instead of three weeks I would take you around the world. As it is I thought we could fake it with a visit to Epcot."

And he was right, the Epcot park was a brilliant substitute for world travel. It seemed so strange that it was Anthony's health that accelerated their relationship and wedding. The weeks of their trip were so golden and normal, well maybe not normal.

Belle had never expected to see the infamous Mr. Gold in swim trunks or riding a roller coaster. She never expected lazy days spent poolside or busy ones exploring Florida in the rental Caddy. She never expected to hear him laugh so much, a laugh untouched by its customary bitterness. Anthony wasn't a changed person by any means, just a relaxed one. She even managed to get a picture with him in the ears. He deleted it of course, but not before she could send it to her email.

Belle felt guilty for celebrating Christmas away from her family and friends in Storybrooke, but she couldn't help but enjoy the time alone with her new husband. The Florida climate was reminiscent of the Christmases of her childhood and the resort staff went out of their way to create a perfect holiday for their patrons. She tried very hard not to let the experience be marred with the worry that her first Christmas with Anthony would be the last.

0

The champagne and fireworks were charming and romantic, but Belle couldn't banish her dread of the coming year. Chemotherapy and hospitals and uncertainty. She wished she could freeze time or find some magic cure. She wouldn't change a moment of their time together, but she wanted more. She wanted the promise of decades and children, she could tell he imagined coming back with a family. Wetness stung her eyes as she tried not to think about anything but the present.

"It hasn't happened yet, dear. Let's not borrow trouble from the future, hmm."

"I'm sorry, Anthony. New Years always makes me a little wistful."

Anthony nodded and pulled her closer, knowing as well as she did her words weren't entirely true. "You need a distraction." he murmured slanting his lips over hers.

Belle felt herself grinning as they broke apart. "Kiss me again, it's working."


	11. The First Ant to the Picnic part 1

**_A/N Thanks for all the attention, guys. This puppy has had nearly 10,000 hits and my heart could literally burst with pride! This chapter signals a return to angst, I hope you like it. Hugs and love, ANG_**

* * *

"Has he sent you to collect the rent then?" Moe French asked as he opened the door. His face was shuttered and deliberately blank, his tone flat. It stung, but Belle smiled, pretending the joke wasn't half genuine.

"Hello to you too, Papa," she said, planting a kiss on his forehead. "Are you going to let me in?"

"Would it be too much to hope you were staying for good?" Moe's voice was wistful, but resigned.

"Only for tea, Papa, if you don't mind the company." Belle gestured to the shopping bag she was carrying. "I've brought you something special."

She swept past him as he was still staring at the shopping bag, his expression simply disgruntled. Moe turned with her and kept pace.

"I was getting ready to make myself a cuppa. I'm surprised you still remember my break schedule," he grumbled, following Belle to the kitchen.

"It's only been a week, Dad," Belle chided as she noted the state of the room. The dishes were clean and the bin wasn't overflowing with take-out containers. He was getting along better than she thought.

"It feels much longer, Petal." Moe was silent for a while, watching Belle switch on the electric kettle and assemble the tea things. When he spoke again, his voice was far too even to be natural; he was trying to control his tone. "How is he, Belle? Honestly. He's treating you well?"

Belle's smile was real, but a little cloudy. "We take care of each other, he makes me happy."

"Something's wrong," Moe guessed. "Come on girl, you might as well tell me. It's written all over your face."

"Don't be silly, Papa," Belle replied, pulling a Tupperware container from the shopping bag. She handed it to Moe. "I made these for you."

"Lamingtons!" he exclaimed, prying the lid open. "But my birthday's not until next week."

"About that -" Belle began stirring three teaspoons of sugar into her father's cup. "I thought we could celebrate early this year. I... I brought your present."

"What's going on Belle? We always spend our birthdays together." Moe pushed the chocolate cakes away. "This is him isn't it? The bastard is trying to isolate you."

"That's not true. He needs to go to Boston next week and I need to go with him." Belle weighed and measured her words carefully, not wanting to give anything away. "Believe me, Dad, I wouldn't go if it wasn't important."

"I don't understand, Belle. I don't understand a bit. What hold does he have on you?"

"We've had this conversation before. I love him and I'm going to stay with him, be with him. And he loves me too."

Moe carried on as if she hadn't spoke, "Is he paying you? Blackmailing you? Just a week ago you were working for him, then he fired you, and now you're living together? I need you to explain all this to me, Petal, because none of it makes sense."

"It isn't bribery or blackmail! How could you think that?" Belle tried not to take Moe's words to heart. "That day last week... He was trying to protect me, I think. He thought I would be happier with someone else..."

"He's not a good man, Belle. You should have stayed away."

"No, Dad. I love him and he needs me."

"Gold doesn't need anyone or anything. He's using you! Gods, girl, you're supposed to be smarter than this."

"Papa, he's not a monster. He's just been on his own for too long. He lo-"

Moe cut her off, "That man is the reason you had to leave school. He's done everything in his power to ruin us. He raised our rent three times, he repossessed our van. On Valentine's Day! We lost all that stock. If you hadn't taken out extra school loans and come home we would have lost everything."

"It's in the past, Dad. We always found a way. Besides, he reduced the rent well below the original agreement when I went to work at his shop."

"He knew what he was doing, Belle. He wanted you and he found a way to steal you. Can't you see it?"

"Being with him is my choice. You can't decide who I fall in love with."

"I hate that man. I wish he would just die and leave us in peace!" Moe shouted banging his fist on the kitchen table.

There was utter silence.

"You can't mean that," Belle whispered, stunned.

"I do," Moe continued. "He's a beast. And the world would be a better place if he would drop dead."

Belle had no intention of crying or burdening her father with any painful truths; intent, however, is often meaningless.

0

Anthony hated dusting, but the spinning wheel required special attention. Using a frugal dollop of beeswax and turpentine, he set to work on the wheel and tried to let its creaking spins replace the rampant turning of his thoughts. Belle had been withdrawn since her visit with Moe; she refused to speak of it. Although she really didn't have to, he could almost feel the sting of the estrangement. Anthony Gold hadn't stepped foot in a church in twenty years, yet he found himself praying that his relationship with Belle wouldn't do permanent damage where Moe was concerned. Belle needed Moe in her life, and would need him even more down the road.

The bell on the front door jingled, announcing what was most likely Belle's return from Granny's. "I hope you remembered the extra pickles, sweetheart," he teased as he made his way to the showroom.

"So sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Gold," Regina Mills greeted crisply. "I take it Ms. French isn't in."

"No, she's at the diner," Gold replied. "Are you here for some civic duty Madame Mayor, or do you wish to make a purchase? Either way, it's nearly lunchtime and I find myself disinclined to make any deals at the moment."

"I had hoped to speak with your girl, but since she isn't here I might as well take this opportunity to offer you my deepest sympathy." Regina lowered her voice and leaned in towards Gold. "We've had our differences in the past, but I was truly distressed to hear your news."

"And what news would that be, dearie?" he asked through gritted teeth, wondering who turned his private affairs into gossip. If Regina knew, it was or would be the talk of the town.

Regina ignored him. "I understand that you're consulting some of the best doctors in Boston and I know you well enough to expect that you're putting your affairs in order. But I feel it is my duty to caution you about who you trust-" The door chimed again as Belle entered the shop empty handed and clearly in distress.

"Anthony?" she said. "We need to talk. Everyone..." Belle's voice trailed off when she noticed Regina's presence and the stony expression on Gold's face.

"Ms. French, you are just the person I came here to see," Regina said. "I had meant to have a word with you in private, but I really don't see the point in brushing things under the rug. Your father called me, he's very concerned for you. He thinks you're being taken advantage of." Every word from Regina's mouth dripped with equal amounts of poison and sincerity, the effect was nearly hypnotic.

"As one of Mr. Gold 's oldest acquaintances in Storybrooke, I'm inclined to disagree. I think it's pretty obvious that you're after his money. You might be telling yourself you are helping him, or knowing Gold, you might have a deal in place. Well dear, I think it's my duty to both of you to ask you to consider the ramifications of your actions."

Gold could feel his blood pressure rising with every word that left Regina's mouth. His outrage on his own behalf paled by Belle's reaction the mayor's accusations; her head was bowed and her body trembled. Keeping a deathly grip on his cane, he addressed Regina. "You evil soul. Get out of my shop. In the future I would advise you to stay away from Ms. French and myself. We are two consenting adults and what's between us is our business."

"You're offended," the mayor stated unnecessarily, her voice dripping with her sardonic intention, just subtle enough (if subtlety was in her repertoire) to avoid being called out. "I'm sorry you feel that way, but it is my responsibility-"

"Your only responsibility is to see yourself out," Gold snarled. "And if you darken my doorway again, I won't be responsible for what I might do. Is that clear, dearie?"

"Crystal," Regina replied. "But do think about what I said, Gold. I hate to think of you at the mercy of some scheming little digger, especially when you're at your weakest."

Silence prevailed when the clicking of Regina's stilettos ceased and the bell signaled her exit from the shop. The urge to break something was nearly impossible to resist, but Belle's presence staid Anthony's hand.

"I'm sorry, Anthony. The whole town knows and it's my fault. Please forgive me."

"You told your father about my lymphoma I take it?" Gold asked leading Belle into the back room.

"I- I did. He was saying such awful things and I thought I could make him understand. I didn't mean to betray your trust, I really didn't."

"I know, Belle. I know. Besides, they were bound to find out eventually. Please don't cry."

"Anthony, the things she said. You know I'm not... I would never. You believe me, don't you?"

"Of course I do, love. I trust you." Gold whispered pulling her tight. "I trust you more than anyone."

"Papa doesn't. He thought I was living with you for money. He said- he said he wished you would... And I had to tell him the truth, but when I did he started screaming and ranting. He told me I wasn't welcome in his house." Belle sobbed into his jacket. "I can't understand it. Why would he do that? And now he's told everyone."

Before Gold answer her properly the doorbell rang out again. "Belle, I want you to sit down, I'll take care of whoever it is. We'll talk later. It looks like Regina was only the first ant to the picnic."


End file.
